


Winchester Cursed (Reader-Insert)

by trendingtrash



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Around that time frame, Cursed, Episode: s08e08 Hunteri Heroici, Gen, Help, Reader is a Hunter, Reader-Insert, Tags Are Hard, Tags May Change, Team as Family, supernatural creature
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 13:33:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14356533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trendingtrash/pseuds/trendingtrash
Summary: You are a friend of the Winchesters. One that saw to the boys’ childhood and watched them grow into men. You linger within their lives, hoping that one day that you could one day see them have a peaceful lifestyle. That or for your curse to break. At the moment you could decide which one would be better. So when a Supernatural creature predicts your future you don't know whether to feel relieved or troubled.





	Winchester Cursed (Reader-Insert)

**Author's Note:**

> So instead of writing my many works I have decided to finally try a shot in the Supernatural fandom – psst! I’m new and currently starting season 9 and haven’t seen my life since. Please return, it’s urgent!  
> Anyway, I just want to write one where there isn’t much of a romantic story hanging about and its just happy family story – or as happy as these Winchesters can get. But if there is chemistry between reader and a character notify me (cause honesty I suck) and just say and hey, maybe it will then receive a romantic sub-plot. 
> 
> (The time of this book is around Episode: s08e08 Hunteri Heroici, as I said it's around and some parts might not work, but it works for me. Basically this is just sorta an episode of this time of the season (I think this was the one anyway).) 
> 
> Enjoy~

It was the ringing that awoke you. It was hammering into your aching skull, drilling its high-pitched wail into your ears and working its way towards the centre of your mind where you currently reflected in misery, bottles rolling around in the bathtub you rolled over in. Your eyelids fluttered open, head pounding for the better of it as your fingers latched around the edge and _heaving_ -

The world was momentarily dark again and you felt your body sag back into the bathtub with a loud thud. You groaned, gingerly reaching to your head and patting it tenderly. “Ouch.” You mumbled, limbs falling slack as you lay unmoving in the most pitiful place on Earth. _Br-ing! Br-ing!_

“Ugh.” The words escaped your mouth as you tried for the second time to pull yourself out of the tube and into the hallway, hoping that this time you would be successful. Stumbling hard and ignoring the cluttering of bottles, you somehow made your way into the walkway, colliding with the opposite wall before setting down the hallway in a drunken manner. Drinking passed your bedtime was never a good idea.

Stumbling to the end, you swayed for a moment before tripping into the living room. It was a narrow room, though long with three cosy couches facing a dated television, before extending out to a long dining table that was accompanied with twelve chairs. There the phone would be located, blearing painful in one final retort. Hissing, you charged headlong down the room, clumsily weaving between the couches and to the corner of the table as the phone beeped.

_“Ah, it’s Dean and… we have a case of- Sam thinks it could something called a Aqrabuamelu… I don’t even know, so when you get this-”_

You lounged at the phone, hands dealing the phone between each other as you tried to keep it in your grasp. Pressing answer, you pressed it hard to your ear. “Dean? Dean?”

Dean’s rambling drifted off, and there was a pause, “ _Y/N?”_ He finally replied, voice muffled.

“Yeah,” you answered with a yawn, pulling out a chair for yourself only to find a stack of books scattered on it. You tried another – same thing. With a sigh, you continued, “It’s me.”

“ _Okay good-_ “, Dean started, voice firming.

You hiccupped, and with a huff you sat on the ground.

 _“-Are you drunk?”_ His voice was all disbelief, which surprised you – after all this wasn’t the first time that you were indeed drunk. All you could do was sigh again, legs twitching before you as you focused on moving your toes.

“I’m sobering up.” You replied warily, “Now about your case, shoot away.”

There was another silence, and you swore you heard a dim _‘unbelievable_ ’ before Dean drew back to the phone. “Alright then,” he sounded doubtful, but then again you couldn’t really tell: Dean was a hard man to read over the phone and your current state wasn’t helping. _“Sam reckons it’s something called – oh here we go again – a… Aqrabuamelu. A, Q, R, A, B, U, A, M, E, L, U. I have no idea what it is and I was hoping that you might have some idea.”_

You yawned again, squinting, “A, Q, R- funny, I haven’t either, considering that usually a ‘U’ follows after a ‘Q’. It sounds…” another yawn and another silence, “… _made up_ , if you agree with me.” Though it did ring a bell now that you thought of it hard enough, you’d have to confirm with the book.

_“Yeah, I would agree but Sam doesn’t, so could you look into it?”_

You found yourself nodding and peeling yourself off the floor in searching for a piece of paper and a pen. Scrambling to find one through the mess of the books, you managed to murmur, “Fine. Alright, is it desperate?”

_“Well we are on the case now, so I would say that it’s important.”_

“Desperate not important, Dean. There’s a difference.” When your retort was met with silence, you cussed gently, “Fine. A, Q, R, A, B, U, A, M, E, L, U.” You spelt loudly, “I’ll get onto it right _away_ \- why haven’t you bothered Garth with this?”

There was an impatient silence, _“Because he isn’t back yet and you’re the next best thing.”_

He was sucking up to you, you could feel it and for the first time that morning you were smiling. “Haha Dean, I’m glad you think so highly of me.” And with not so much of a ‘goodbye’ you hang up. Collecting the novels from the chairs to set them crudely on top of shattered maps and sheets of information, you glanced over their titles as you gathered the lot of them. Paper fluttered everywhere and dust stirred at the commotion, falling limply to your feet. “Where’s… where’s that novel-?” You mumbled to yourself, as you began to search for your glasses gingerly.

Unable to find them, you squinted again and peered closer at the different fonts of each book. Selecting one randomly, you peeled back the leathery cover of the book, sighing in satisfaction.

_All Mythical Creatures Known to Mankind._

If you needed to find out a creature this was the book – it was shared hundreds of pieces of knowledge on every creature that roamed planet Earth, and ran through your family since your great-great- _great_ grandfather, who collected information and wrote corrections and forgotten pieces of information within the sheets of paper. Unlucky for you, you couldn’t read your great-great grandfather’s handwriting resulting in dozens of miscommunication and mishaps along the way. Lucky for you though, you could read you great-great- _great_ grandfather’s writing, though you had a sneaky suspicion that he had no idea what he was talking about. 

Going to the index of the book – which was alphabetically placed – your eyes searched the ‘A’ column and with quick success you found: _Aqrabumelu, pg 48._

Silently cheering your luck, you cautiously carded through the book onto the very pages.

_Aqrabuamelu_

_Also see: Scorpion man, pg 762 or Girtablilu, pg, 200._

_The Aqrabuamelu are mysterious scorpion men mentioned in many Babylonian myths-_

So, they were in this book, it’ll explain why it rang a bell, maybe once you had flipped passed and actually glazed at the name. Tapping at the page thoughtfully, headache being push aside, you glanced at the print. It was crisp in areas, whilst some of it suffered from water damage -  unsurprising considering your family’s history with drinks. It’s leather cover was stiff from the sun and its spine on its fourth binding with pages of a browning yellow. It was a much-loved book and you were glad that it had passed down onto you, after all it was you that had ended up in this lifestyle whilst the remainder of your family – aside for your cousin, Ian – managed to squirm their way out of this life. _Away from me._

No, you weren’t going to think about it, after all it was their choice and you couldn’t change it. Like Bobby couldn’t change your thoughts towards baseball.

They left because they somehow could – the Hunters’ life was determined to stick with you, and you couldn’t complain really – after all, you still had a case going and its tabs filling by the year. You couldn’t ditch this life, not when it was so incomplete. _I have to continue._

You were just glad that you still enjoyed it to a degree – and by enjoying, you meant the people in it.

Looking almost ruefully at the page, you attempted to read the starting again, neck already aching with effort. The pages rippled dangerously, more sheets falling to the floor. With a hiss, you looked at the windows to find the draft.

“It is bad for the human body to sit like that.”

You yelped at the voice, spinning to meet the noise with a ferocious stare. Your hand gripped the book, ready to throw it if need be. _Will I be able to run fast enough?_

You’ll have to see, won’t you?

There stood a man – normal looking enough – in a trench coat and a grim expression, his icy blue eyes searched your house with a blank expression before regarding you again. Was it a demon? No, it couldn’t be, you had put warding up to prevent that. Salt sealed every niche – not at the window mind – but tucked on every wall, it was like a border to your carpet. Then it was another supernatural creature – but what, you didn’t know, so many fitted the category of ‘normal-enough’ and ‘not affected by devil traps’. Your mind was whirling.

“Who are you?”

The man took a singular step closer towards you, though no further, his eyes still watching you intensely. “I am Castiel, friend of Dean and Sam Winchester, they requested that I watch over you until tomorrow: at what specific time they didn’t clarify.”

 _Watch over_? Castiel? _Oh God._ “You are the Angel that has been helping the boys,” blinking twice, you then turned back to your book, “alright then, welcome to my humble home of thousands of bacteria…” _yes, your house was really that awful._ “…and one person and on occasion a stray dog that I think use to be the neighbour’s.”

If you intended to push aside the thought of Castiel – the Angel that had caused chaos and yet helped the boys so much – out of your mind, then you were wrong. This presence seemed to nag at you immediately and you found yourself looking back over your shoulder. “Well? Don’t just stand there you’re making me nervous.”

Nervous was an underestimate. You were anxious beyond belief with a gap that managed to squish curiosity into the mix. “Did the boys say what they want you to keep an eye on me for?” You asked, attempting to go back to the book. And failing once more.

The Angel moved hesitantly, coming to stand next to you and peered over your shoulder. He was shorter than you imagined. “They believe that this creature has a tendency to select individuals of the damned kind. Though I must say myself, your soul does not seem damned…” He paused, eyes growing darker as he looked at you, “You are cursed.”

How-? You weren’t even going to ask. “And you are an Angel, so?” You snapped back, picking the volume up with a hurt expression. You ducked away so he couldn’t see.

There was a pause and you allowed yourself to drift over to the head of the table to glow at the curious feather man. He seemed to be reflecting, head tilted in the direction of the windows and eyes distant. “I am sorry,” he started cautiously after some silence. His bright eyes came back to you seriously. “My words have caused distress, I believe- “.

“It’s fine.” You interrupted, eyes going back to the book and seating yourself down. You weren’t going anywhere with this, you had to concentrate. “Do you know anything about Aqrabuamelu?” You finally asked, eyes flickering away from the book feeling the thickness of silence creeping in. _And to think I like the quiet!_

Castiel nodded, but before he could explain, you gestured vaguely to a seat.

“And please sit, you’re making me nervous – again.”

The Angel regarded the chair for moment and in a stiff manner, obeyed, his face carefully blank. He looked as though he hadn’t relaxed in his life – with the back straight and all. Unconsciously you straightened your own, clearing you throat in thoughtfulness before: “Now the Aqrabuamelu.”

Castiel blinked coyly at you, “As what is written in the book you hold Aqrabuamelu are creatures of a Scorpion nature as well as a man’s. Babylonian scrolls and tales often mention them as guardians of Shamash, their god of Sun, truth, justice and healing. In Aztecs’ myths they are called by a different name and are said to be spirits of defeated gods that were cast out of the sky after they destroyed a sacred grove of fruit trees.”

You nodded, finding yourself appealed by the information, “Is there truth to the myths?”

A brow creased his brow, “I…” he paused, “the Egyption gods had long given up Earth to Heaven’s power. I have never seen a Scorpion Man roam Earth, though it is common knowledge that they were rumoured to warn travellers of danger that lies beyond their post.”

W _ell not common enough knowledge is seems,_ you reflected bitterly. You had to admit, Sam didn’t have much going in his favour – these creatures seemed _helpful_ not dangerous. You pouted, “They seem too helpful, not Winchester worthy.”

“Is it worth mentioning that they were created to cause war amongst the younger gods?” Castiel asked, probably knowing his answer.

“Yes!” You cried, feeling yourself grow in irritation. “All in all, none of it adds up!”

The Angel, uncaring of your flustered mood, shrugged, “It does. They were created by Tiamat to wage war on the younger gods because of the betrayal of her mate, Apsu. After they stood guard the god Shamash-,”

“No!” You intercepted loudly, you felt your confusion build and your frustration with it. “The Winchester boys sent _you_ because ‘this creature has a tendency to select individuals of the damned kind’ and they think I might be next? These Aqrabuamelu creatures don’t fit the category. They guard. They wage war. But nothing includes selecting individuals of a damned kind.” You huffed, slumping back into your chair before you let a soft groan escape your lips. A headache was blooming. _Never drink passed your bedtime._

You rubbed your temples gingerly.

Castiel continued to watch you, his head tilting to the side as he considered you for a third time. “Myths have a scent of truth, but aren’t entirely true to the nature of a creature.”

“Helpful.” You muttered, not bothering to open your eyes. “If you knew this much about these bug men, then why did they ask for my help?”

You sensed, rather than saw, him shrug. “I believe they seek to involve you more in their life as they have always intended to do.”  

You shot him a glance, looking for his expression. It was as simple as always, though you sensed that there was a complexity to his emotions than he was letting on. Finally, you nodded, sitting back up, “Maybe.” You agreed insentiently as you stood to stretch. You mind was whirling with ideas that only half met. “Alright Imma get a drink, do you angels drink anything?”

 

 


End file.
